With A Vengeance Read online

  Benjamin eyed him, trying to figure out who he was. After the ceremony itself, dozens of people had turned up to the evening party — many of them friends or acquaintances of Lisa, people he didn’t know. He smiled at the man, hoping to strike up conversation.

  ‘Having a good time?’ he asked him, watching as the man turned his head in the direction of the words.

  ‘Yeah, great!’ the man said, lifting his pint glass up in salute. Benjamin watched as the frothy head slopped up the inside of the glass and over the man’s hand, falling to the wooden floor with a gentle splat.

  ‘So you a friend of Lisa’s, then?’ he asked, struggling to make himself heard over the sound of a new song that’d just begun playing.

  ‘One word for it, yeah. We work together at Sanderson Lees.’

  Benjamin nodded as he tried to secretly guess what subject the man taught. He had the physique of a PE teacher, but he drank like a janitor. Maybe an English teacher who looked after himself, or a groundsman. So many people worked at the Sanderson Lees Academy, he wouldn’t be surprised if they had engineers and accountants on the payroll.

  ‘What do you teach?’ Benjamin asked him, stepping closer to avoid having to shout over the music.

  ‘Business Studies,’ the man replied. ‘I trained as a PE teacher and ended up covering other stuff. Always the way in this job. Never end up doing what you planned to do.’

  Benjamin nodded, convinced he’d heard Lisa say something similar at some point. ‘So have you been working there long?’

  ‘Fucking long enough,’ the man replied. ‘Sorry, I’m Ollie. Mr Hardcastle to my students,’ he added, guffawing as if this were the funniest joke he’d ever told. Benjamin presumed it probably was.

  ‘Nice to meet you,’ he replied.

  ‘You know, me and Lisa had a bit of a thing a few years back. When she started working there. Didn’t last long, mind.’

  Benjamin swallowed hard, forcing back the urge to feel angry. He had no right to feel angry — this was his wedding day, and Lisa was now his wife. Why should he care who she’d dated before he’d even met her? It had nothing to do with how things were now. But he still couldn’t shake the instinctive reaction that was pure anger.

  ‘Really,’ he said, not as a question, before taking a large gulp of his lager.

  ‘Oh yes,’ the man slurred. ‘Then again, that’s what happens when you start at a new place, isn’t it? Got to test the water. See what’s on offer. Do a few test drives.’

  Benjamin gritted his teeth as Ollie raised his pint glass in salute again, grinning from ear to ear like a Cheshire cat.

  ‘I tell you,’ he continued, leaning in close enough for Benjamin to smell the beer fumes on his breath, ‘I still remember every minute of it. You’ve got a good one there, buddy. Arse like a hot potato. And the way she does that thing where she wraps her legs around you and—’

  Ollie gurgled as Benjamin’s hand wrapped around his windpipe, squeezing tightly, lifting him up onto his tiptoes. His back was against the wooden pillar, and he could see the venom in Benjamin’s eyes.

  ‘Alright! Alright!’ he squealed as Benjamin’s best man, Cameron, took him by the arm and defused the situation before too many people had noticed.

  Benjamin looked around and saw Lisa on the dance floor with her friends, completely oblivious to what had happened. In that moment, he realised he’d got away with it.

  ‘I think it’d be a good idea if you fucked off, don’t you?’ Cameron told Ollie. ‘I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. But this is his wedding day and we’re not having any of that shit here, alright?’

  ‘But he attacked me!’ Ollie slurred, reaching for his pint on the bar.

  ‘You’ve had enough of that, mate,’ Cameron said, taking the glass from him. ‘And if I know my mate, he doesn’t do things like that without a good reason. Which means you’ve been an arsehole. Which means you’re leaving.’

  Cameron was, by now, almost toe-to-toe with Ollie, who took the hint and slunk off towards the exit.

  ‘What was that all about?’ Cameron asked, once Ollie had gone.

  ‘Nothing. Just some dickhead making comments about Lisa. Forget it.’

  Cameron nodded, knowing there must be more to it than that. ‘Pop outside for a smoke?’ he asked, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. Benjamin hadn’t smoked for years, other than the odd occasion when he’d had too much to drink. Right now, though, the thought was very appealing. He craved the taste of a cigarette, the calming nicotine.

  The pair stepped outside and enjoying the calm breeze that cooled them down slightly after the heat of the bar. Benjamin had barely taken two drags on his cigarette when he heard the familiar voice of Ollie, accompanied by the sound of unsteady footsteps crunching their way across the gravel.

  ‘Think you’re the fucking hard man, do you? Cat that got the cream.’

  ‘Fuck off, mate. We told you to go,’ Cameron called, before turning to Benjamin. ‘I’ll go in and get a couple of the lads. Just in case.’

  ‘Yeah, go on! Run off back inside!’ Ollie yelled. ‘And what about you, mister married man? I bet you’re proud, ain’t you? Proud to get my sloppy seconds. Hell, she’s everyone’s sloppy seconds, the filthy little slag.’

  Before he knew what he was doing, Benjamin sprinted across the gravel and launched himself at Ollie, pinning him to the ground as he pummelled his fists into the man’s face, before pushing his forearm against Ollie’s windpipe, lifting his knee and ramming it into his groin, over and over.

  ‘Think you’re the fucking smart man, do you?’ Benjamin yelled, the rage and fury washing over him in a way it hadn’t done for years.

  He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but he was dragged back into reality by the force of a couple of his friends pulling him off of Ollie and standing him up a few feet away.

  Benjamin ran his finger through his hair and inspected his bloodied knuckles, before turning to head back towards the bar. As he did so, he could see Lisa standing not ten feet away from him, tears staining her cheeks.

  18

  Jack and Wendy walked into the interview room and sat down, John Lucas having already been seated across the table next to his solicitor, a chubby man by the name of Matthew Chamberlain, who looked as if he’d been dragged out of the pub to be here.

  Wendy was the first to speak. ‘Okay, John. We want to speak to you with regards to an event that took place last night in the village of Little Walgrave. Have you ever been there?’

  Lucas looked at his solicitor, who nodded to indicate that he should talk. ‘I’ve probably passed through a few times, in the car. It’s not far away from here.’

  ‘And do you know anyone who lives there?’

  Lucas was silent for a few moments. ‘Depends what you mean by that.’

  ‘Tell us what you mean by it,’ Wendy said.

  ‘Freddie Galloway lives there. Lived there,’ he corrected himself. ‘But I wasn’t exactly best mates with him, so if you mean was there anyone there who I’d go and visit, the answer’s no.’

  ‘We’re not talking about visits, though, are we?’ Culverhouse interrupted. ‘We’re talking about a case of arson. So, tell us more about why you weren’t exactly best mates with Freddie Galloway.’

  Lucas looked down at his lap and let out a noise that sounded like it came from somewhere between a laugh and a snort of disbelief. ‘You already know all this. I was caught and sent down. I’ve done my time.’

  ‘With respect, that doesn’t tell us anything,’ Wendy said. ‘Was there bad blood between you and Freddie Galloway?’

  Chamberlain leaned over and whispered something in his client’s ear.

  Lucas looked up at Wendy. ‘Look, everyone knows I didn’t like him. But I didn’t do anything to him. I’ve changed, alright? You can ask anyone. I wouldn’t have been paroled if they thought I was a danger to anyone, so why would I go and burn a bloke’s house down hours later? I’ve learned to forgive and fo
rget.’

  ‘Tell us more about what made you hate Freddie Galloway in the first place, Mr Lucas,’ Culverhouse said.

  The solicitor interrupted. ‘Is this line of questioning really necessary, Chief Inspector? My client has already told you that he no longer bore a grudge against Mr Galloway.’

  ‘I think it is, yes,’ Culverhouse replied. ‘Because, let’s face it, we only have your client’s word for it that he’s a reformed character.’

  ‘His and that of the parole board,’ Chamberlain added.

  ‘Which, in my vast experience, can easily be swayed by a prisoner who knows how to say the right things. Which,’ Culverhouse quickly added, to deflect the solicitor’s obvious next remark, ‘is not what I’m claiming your client has done, but does need to be considered as a possibility.’

  Chamberlain looked at Lucas and nodded reluctantly.

  Lucas sighed before speaking. ‘He tucked me up. He tucked us all up in his own way. He knew damn well there was a far better escape route on that job. The one he took himself. The one he took, leaving me and Peter to face the music. And the time inside.’

  ‘Peter being Benjamin Newell?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘If that’s what your information tells you. I didn’t know anyone’s real names.’

  ‘You knew Freddie Galloway’s,’ Culverhouse remarked.

  ‘Only because you used his name first,’ Lucas replied, after a moment or two.

  ‘You named him when you were arrested over the Trenton-Lowe job. Then you retracted it.’

  ‘I was scared. I was pressured into naming names. I got it wrong.’

  ‘No you didn’t. You knew exactly who we were talking about, didn’t you?’

  Lucas looked at his brief.

  ‘Detective Chief Inspector, can we get onto the matter of the crime itself? You’ve arrested my client for arson, yet all you seem to want to talk about is an event that happened eleven years ago and which seems to have no apparent connection to the crime you’ve arrested him for.’

  Culverhouse looked at the solicitor and smiled. ‘Certainly. Where were you on the evening of the nineteenth and early hours of the twentieth, John?’

  ‘I was at home. My mother’s old home. She left it to me. It’s mine now.’

  ‘Can anyone verify that?’

  ‘What, that it’s my home?’

  Culverhouse eyed the man for a moment, letting him know silently that if anyone in this room was going to make cocky comments, it was going to be him.

  ‘No, can anyone verify that you were there for the whole of last night?’ Wendy asked.

  ‘I live alone,’ Lucas said, smiling slightly.

  Culverhouse cocked his head. ‘I don’t know what you’re smiling for, Mr Lucas. Your sworn enemy is killed in an arson attack hours after you get let out of prison — time you were serving for a job he abandoned you to get caught on — and you’ve got no alibi for the time of the attack. I don’t think I’d be smiling if I were in your position.’

  Lucas laughed. ‘Why do you have this obsession with him being my “sworn enemy”? He was nothing of the sort. He was a bloke who fucked me over years ago. Shit happens. All that matters is how you deal with it.’

  ‘And how did you deal with it?’ Culverhouse asked him.

  ‘I learned to forgive and forget. Prison gives you a lot of time to think.’

  ‘And brood.’

  Matthew Chamberlain, the solicitor, interjected. ‘Detective Chief Inspector, the custody clock is ticking and so far we haven’t got past you trying to convince my client that he was meant to hate Freddie Galloway. What, exactly, is the purpose of an interview if you’re going to ignore everything he says and try to convince him otherwise?’

  ‘Mr Chamberlain, I’m trying to get to the bottom of who set fire to Freddie Galloway’s house, causing him to fall to his death. And, right now, circumstances are pointing heavily towards your client. That’s why we’re questioning him. That’s our job.’

  ‘Circumstances, Detective Chief Inspector. Circumstantial evidence. Nothing that will stand up in court, in other words.’

  Culverhouse gritted his teeth. ‘We’ve got officers searching Mr Lucas’s property as we speak. Arresting him gives us the chance to speak to him under caution and question his version of events.’

  ‘With respect, my client doesn’t have a version of events. He’s already told you he wasn’t there. He was at his house, the house your officers are currently searching. God knows what for, seeing as he hadn’t set foot in the place for eleven years until last night.’

  ‘In which case, your client has nothing to worry about, does he?’ Culverhouse replied. ‘Unless, of course, the officers find some sort of forensic evidence that links to the events at Freddie Galloway’s house. Now, that’d be a rather tricky one to explain, don’t you think?’

  Matthew Chamberlain looked at his client, who simply sat back in his chair and folded his arms.

  19

  It was often the case that the first custody interview with a suspect would seem completely fruitless. The general rule was that they’d either open up and tell you absolutely everything straight away or they’d frustrate you to the point where you wondered why you’d even bothered.

  All wasn’t lost, though. The team were coming to the end of their shift — or, at least, the end of the period of time they’d be allowed to work consecutively — save for the late debrief. Although historically murder investigations meant you worked whatever hours you could, this now had to be within a certain limit. After all, a wise defence solicitor could easily request staff working logs and claim that the investigation might be flawed in places due to overtired and overworked police officers. The truth of the matter was, all police officers were overtired and overworked regardless.

  ‘Right,’ Culverhouse said as he marched into the incident room, ‘let’s get this over and done with quickly. It’s been a bloody long day and I’ve got a cold pint waiting for me next door. If we hurry up I might be able to drink it before closing time.’

  Culverhouse sat down in a chair and folded his arms and legs, looking at Janet Grey expectantly.

  The pathologist smiled, knowing the DCI’s little ways only too well, and briefed the team on what she’d discovered so far.

  ‘To summarise, it’s pretty much what we expected when we first arrived at the scene. The cause of death was heavy trauma due to a fall, consistent with the height of the balcony and the weight of the deceased. It was the fall that killed him. There was quite a lot of smoke in his lungs, which indicates that he’d been inside the house when the fire was burning. There was no major evidence of scorching or any sign of him actively having tried to fight the fire, so we can assume that it was pretty well active by the time he discovered it.’

  ‘Which is odd, isn’t it?’ Wendy asked. ‘I mean, it makes sense that the fire had been well established by the time he discovered it, because it was during the night. He wouldn’t have just been walking around the house at that time. But if that’s the case, why didn’t he die in his sleep of smoke inhalation? How did he discover the fire in the first place?’

  ‘Fire alarms?’ Steve offered, trying to hold back from laughing.

  Wendy immediately felt rather daft. It had been a long day.

  ‘Correct, DS Wing,’ Dr Grey said. ‘The watch commander reckons there are signs of smoke alarms having been installed, although it’ll take a while for them to be able to confirm that for definite. Plastic doesn’t tend to last too long in a blazing inferno, apparently. Who knew?’

  ‘So what, he jumped and missed the pool?’ Culverhouse asked.

  ‘Looks like it. Probably not the easiest thing to do, especially if you’ve been woken in the middle of the night, are getting on a bit in age and you’ve got lungs half-filled with smoke. I’d like to see you land a perfect ten in the deep end, Detective Chief Inspector.’

  ‘You’re not the only one, Dr Grey. My body is a temple.’

  ‘Yes. To Buddha.’
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br />   ‘Alright. Enough of the sexual tension. Let’s get back to dead bodies. When are you going to have something I can use to charge our suspect?’

  Janet Grey smiled. ‘I’m afraid that’s between science and the Crown Prosecution Service. I can’t magic up evidence if it doesn’t exist.’

  Culverhouse grunted as he rubbed the stubble on his chin. ‘No, but on the other hand the custody clock is ticking, and we’re going to struggle to get an extension if there’s nothing we can pin on our man. We can’t interview again until the morning anyway. Not with Chamberlain as his brief. We’re better off waiting until everyone’s had some kip. Got to play well within the lines with that bloke.’

  ‘Well, there’s a first time for everything, eh, Detective Chief Inspector?’ Grey said, smiling at him as she closed her notebook.

  ‘Have we had anything back from the scene?’ Culverhouse asked, of no-one in particular.

  ‘Nothing yet,’ Steve Wing replied. ‘But that doesn’t mean they’ve not found anything. There’s probably still some areas the fire officers won’t let them into. Might take a while. They’ll be going through the night, bagging and tagging.’

  ‘Lucky them,’ Culverhouse said. ‘We’ll need to hope they uncover something that ties our man to the scene. Otherwise, we’ll have to release him.’

  ‘That wouldn’t be so bad, though, would it?’ Ryan asked. ‘I mean, he’s got a probation officer assigned to him so it’s not as if he’s going to be able to go far.’

  Culverhouse stood with his hands on his hips. ‘Oh, I’m not worried about him going far. My concern is that if he’s come out of prison and is exacting his revenge on people who’ve wronged him in the past, we have no idea how long that list of his might be. For all we know, he could be hell bent on knocking off as many old enemies as he can before we catch up with him. Which is why we need some sort of evidence either way, and pretty damn quickly.’

  ‘They’re doing their best,’ Wendy said, trying to placate her boss. ‘But as you say, there’s not a whole lot we can do now other than head off and get some sleep.’